Secrets
by J.Turenne
Summary: A simple mission reveals something big......


Secrets

A/N- I know, the title is really original, huh? I know that you all hate me for putting out another new story without updating any of the old ones first, but my Muse is being stubborn and that is that. She threw this one at me while I was leaving a production of Julius Caesar at the Chicago Shakespeare Theater. Good Muse food, that Shakespeare……

Disclaimer- Wish I did, but I don't. 'Nuff said.

Reviews- I realized how terrible I've been about constantly begging for reviews and not thanking everybody who had already reviewed my stuff. I would start naming specific people, but that would take all night! Anyway, thank you so much to everyone who has taken the time to review my stuff, for all of your wonderful comments but also for keeping me alive, because that is what reviews do, truly. I'll stop rambling now……

A/N- Sorry, one more thing, sentences in italics are Sydney's thoughts.

It was the mission that she had gotten sick of by now, so utterly and disgustingly predictable it made her want to cry. It was the same mission as a dozen others, down to the perfume and the expensive dress and the four inch stilettos, down to Dixon on one comm and Vaughn on the other, down to the safe in the office and the all-important document of the hour and the few incompetent security guards. It was exactly the same thing that she had faced a hundred times, she told herself. So why was the sixth sense that she valued so highly kicking in on her now?

Sydney sighed and shifted restlessly in the limo (Dixon was at the wheel, posing as her chauffeur so he could stay in the car and shut down the cameras) that would take her to the usual party, where the typical (to her, at least) document sat behind the average safe in the dull office. She tried to assure herself that she was just getting worked up over nothing. Even she couldn't steel herself completely against the slight nervousness that heading out on a mission provided, she reasoned. _But then, why didn't I feel like this the last time I went out on one of these missions, or the time before that?_

The time for contemplation passed as the car slowed to a stop and Dixon turned in his seat to smile at her. "I'll hack into their security as quickly as I can and make sure they can't see you. Other than that, it's up to you." His smile broadened. "I have no doubt that you'll succeed with flying colors, as usual." 

His faith in her boosted her waning self-confidence, and she grinned back. "Thanks, Dixon. See you in an hour or two." She slid quickly over on the leather seat, as he walked around the car to open her door for her. Quickly slipping into the spoiled rich persona that she had learned to imitate so well, she acknowledged Dixon's help with barely more than a nod, straightened her skirt decisively, and proceeded through the intricate French doors and into the mansion du jour. 

She milled about in the crowd for five minutes or so, smiling vaguely at everyone but speaking little, until Dixon's voice drifted into her ear, "Okay, Syd, the security is down."

"Great, I'm going in," she muttered to him from the corner of her mouth. "Where is the office again?" 

"Up the stairs, third door on your left. That will lead you into a hallway, the office is through the door at the end of the hall. The safe is behind a mirror on the wall."

"Got it, I'm going radio silent for now," She replied, turning off her comm before he could object or ask why. "Boot Camp, this is Freelancer."

A very familiar voice came through her other ear, "Copy, Freelancer. Is everything going according to plan?"

"Yeah, I just wanted to check in," _RIGHT, Syd, just wanted to hear his voice is more like it_. She continued to walk through the halls as she ran over her countermission. "Once I get the document I'm to get back to the hotel as fast as possible, lift up the loose tile in the bathroom and pass it down to you guys so you can fabricate fake ones and pass them back up to me before Dixon gets back, correct?"

"You got it, Syd," Vaughn replied, "Umm……I mean Freelancer."

She almost laughed at his correction. The little things were what made her lo……LIKE Vaughn so much. "I'm almost to the office, I'm putting Dixon back on now, _Vaughn_," she said his name with especial deliberateness. She could picture him blushing as she simultaneously opened the door of her office destination and turned her SD-6 comm back on. 

"Hey, Dixon, I'm in the office." 

"Hi Syd, I should be able to keep the security system down for about five more minutes, if necessary, but I'm not positive, so I'd hurry if I were you."

"Got it." She made her way over to the large mirror in its brass frame, which she pushed aside to reveal a very normal looking safe. She pulled a small device disguised as a checkbook out of her bag, unfolded it and placed it over the keypad of the safe. According to Marshall's somewhat……Marshallish (there should be a better word, she decided absently) explanation, the device was supposed to read the oil and residue left on the keypad by the fingers that punched in the numbers and thus reveal to her the code. The little device whirred, beeped once or twice, and, in a surprisingly short time, the digits one, five, six and two appeared on the screen. Sydney quickly punched them in, the safe beeped, and the door unlocked. She tugged on the handle, feeling as well as hearing the whoosh of air rushing out of the safe. But she realized just in time that there was also air rushing for behind her……

Her instincts kicked in and she swerved, half noticing the double fist that would have knocked her senseless had the swing collided with her head as she kicked out hard at her opponent. She heard the masculine grunt and kicked out again but he was too fast to be hit twice, dancing to the side. Looking up, she saw a man of medium height and build, clothed all in black, masked and apparently, hopefully, unarmed. She kicked high but he caught her foot and twisted. Half-twisting and half-jumping, she wrenched free of him and went spinning through the air, one leg on a collision course for his face. This time he was caught off guard again and the (until then) hated heel dug sharply into his face. She managed to land and throw one hard punch before he could recover. It was enough. He crumpled to the ground.

__

He certainly didn't put up much of a fight, she thought to herself. _He must not have been expecting to have to fight anybody, or at least anybody_ _who could defend themselves. I wonder who he is and what he's doing here?_

She bent down and peeled the mask away from the fallen man's face. Her eyes widened and she dropped the mask to clutch her mouth and back away. She gasped for breath, but her lungs had seemingly stopped working, which was probably a good thing; if she had her breath she would have screamed……

Because the face beneath the mask was one that she had least expected.

A/N- I know that cliffhangers are terrible, but it's all in the Alias spirit, after all. Besides, now you can all review and tell me who you think it is under the mask. I know that this chapter has been pretty boring (and that my fight scene stunk; forgive me, it's my first one), but it will get interesting by next chapter when it all comes out……


End file.
